


Convict Mr. Grayson

by brejamison



Series: Dick Grayson Must Die [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Badass Ladies, Beating, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Episode: s02e11 E.L._.O., Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Injury, Not Canon Compliant, Prison, Rescue, Torture, Whump, Worried Raven, worried koriand'r
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23255134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brejamison/pseuds/brejamison
Summary: In which Dick is too sick and injured to escape prison. So it's up to Kory and Rachel to do it for him.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Raven, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r
Series: Dick Grayson Must Die [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670542
Comments: 17
Kudos: 141





	Convict Mr. Grayson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous on Tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Anonymous+on+Tumblr).



"Fuck off!" he shrieked as the open cell door filled with guards. They rushed in, batons at the ready. He managed to block a few blows before his muscles gave out and he was defenseless, on the floor and yelling as they beat him. 

"You think you're a tough guy?" one mocked as the blows slowed and they paused to collect their breath. "Huh? You think you're so tough?" His pointed boot stabbed into Dick's side, leaving the fallen man coughing hoarsely. 

The second guard grabbed a handful of his uniform and yanked up. Dick stumbled, gasping loudly as he was forced to his feet. They slammed him against the wall, spinning him to face forward. A baton was pressed to his throat, the guard's spit wetting his face. 

The other swung back, jabbing the narrow end of his stick deep into Dick's stomach. The baton at his throat and fist curled in his hair kept him upright even as his legs gave out and he tried to crumple to the floor. 

"Jesus, this guy is hot," the one gripping his hair commented. He slammed Dick's head into the cement wall as his companion swatted at his cheek, checking the convict's temperature for himself. 

"Eh, guys've been worse," he shrugged, bouncing his baton excitedly. "Remember Toyers?"

"The perv?" 

"Yeah..." He smirked, licking his teeth. "He must'a been at 105, 106 before we finally sent him to med." 

"Died anyway, didn't he?" 

"Uh huh. Day later. Bernie said it was like 'is fucking insides melted."

The one holding Dick turned to him, snarl inches from the convict's face. "Hear that, rat man? You're gonna cook alive in here." 

"At least so long as Len has anything to say about it," the other smirked. "You followin', convict?" 

Dick coughed weakly, nodding. His eyes started to slip and he blinked sluggishly, trying to clear them. He was so hot. Hot and tired. That outburst took what little reserves he had left after his brief spell of unconsciousness. 

His head bounced against the wall forcefully. "He's talking to you, convict!" 

"Guess pretty boy 'ere don't know his manners. You think you can disrespect authorities like that and get away with it?" 

Dick swallowed dryly. "No..." he croaked. 

"No _what_?" 

Dragging his eyes open, he forced them to focus on the guard's face. "No, sir." 

"You threat'ning me?" he snarled, sidling closer. He gripped his baton anxiously, eager to use it. 

Dick shook his head best he could, the hand pulling tightly at his hair. "No. No, sir." 

"You saw that look 'e was givin' me. Didn't it look to you like he was threat'ning me?" 

The baton to his throat pressed and Dick gaped, his airway squeezed. "Certainly did." 

"Get 'im to the floor."

Suddenly he was being thrown to the cold ground. He landed in a heap, crying out quietly in pain as he writhed, crawling away. 

_"Are we crawling now?"_ Bruce asked, squatted before him. 

"You could always help," Dick snapped quietly, pulling himself forward with his arms. They shook and he had to stop, forehead to the cold floor as he panted and sweated with the exertion. 

Suddenly, there were hands on him, pulling him back by the belt. 

_"If only I could,"_ Bruce muttered sadly. 

Dick snarled, twisting to his back and kicking out. He was sick and tired and they were uncoordinated, sloppy blows that only ended up pissing off the guards even more. 

"Goddamnit!" the handsy one yelled, swinging a baton at his knee. "Quit it!" It hit and Dick shrieked silently, clutching his wounded knee in pain. He grappled at Dick's form, forcing him back to his stomach, one knee pressed to the small of his back. When Dick continued to squirm and the guard brought his other leg up, stomping on the back of Dick's thigh. His hurt knee ground into the hard floor, making the convict cry out in pain. He panted, hissing, and cowered under his arms. 

Now that he was settled, the guard with the antsy trigger finger sauntered forward. He nudged his boot into Dick's face, but Dick kept hidden, retreating further into his shoulders. "Your hand," the man commanded and Dick somehow shrunk even further. "Gimme your 'and, damnit!" He swung and a blow landed on the back of Dick's head. 

Stars exploded in front of his closed eyes. 

_"Foul!"_ Bruce called, sitting comfortably on the overturned mattress. _"That was a foul."_

Grumbling, the guard snatched Dick's arm, forcing it to outstretch before him. He held it in place with a knee painfully pressed to Dick's elbow as he splayed out the fingers, palm pressed to the floor. 

Dick looked away and found Bruce watching in pity. 

The guard rose his baton. 

"Help me," Dick begged. Bruce shook his head sadly. 

_"I can't."_

The stick landed and delicate bones in his hand shattered. 

"... _God_!" Dick keened, flexing defensively as he curled against the unforgiving floor. "God... _damnit_!" 

The guard shifted and another blow landed, crushing Dick's fourth and fifth fingers. 

Bruce snapped his fingers and Dick, ever the obedient child, looked up at him pleadingly. _"Your training. Remember your training,"_ the ghost urged. _"Breathe through it. Block it. Don't let it overtake you."_

Another blow and Dick sobbed loudly, hiding his face again. 

_"Breathe, son! You've been through worse than this."_

His pointer finger cracked. 

_"Hell,_ I've _put you through worse than this."_

Suddenly the guard was standing, the unbearable pressure on Dick's extended arm releasing. The convict wheezed, shaking as he peeked up at the guard through his sweaty bangs. 

"Learned yer lesson, yet, convict?" 

He nodded. 

The man raised an eyebrow. 

"Y-yes, sir." 

Bruce rolled his eyes, turning away. _"Christ."_

"Good." The guard nodded and his friend stood. His weight disappeared from Dick's back and he curled weakly. "Take 'is bed." 

"His bed?" 

"Yes, 'is bed. 'e don't deserve it," the guard replied, stomping over to their downed companion. "Y'all good, Chuck?" he asked, helping the other man stand. 

"Damn convict jumped me," Chuck groaned. As the first guard gathered the disassembled pieces of Dick's bed, the second helped Chuck waddle out of the cell. "Rat," he snarled, giving Dick a kick for good measure as he left. In no time at all, the door was slammed shut and locked heavily, leaving Dick alone with the ghost of his conscience. 

Bruce was kneeling before him, watching as Dick cradled his hand, weeping quietly. With a feather-light touch, Bruce squeezed his shoulder with all the care of a father and the power of a lifelong vigilante. _"Rest. You're going to need it,"_ he commanded gently. 

Dick wilted, limbs growing heavy as the spell kicked in. His eyes drooped and his hand fell slowly as he passed out. Bruce caught the injured limb. Gently, he lowered it to the ground, calloused fingertips brushing the palm. With a crunch, the bones reset, jumpstarting the healing process. 

_"There,"_ he sighed. He withdrew his hands, looking over his poor boy. _"Rest well, son."_

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

When Kory and Rachel found Dick's cell, she blasted the door open with a mighty fireball (eventually.) The hinges creaked and groaned, quickly caving under her explosive power. "Dick?" she called, stepping through the gaping hole. Rachel was hot on her heels, rubbing her knuckles. They would be bruised, no doubt, from punching a hole in that guard's face, but she hardly paid it any mind. Finding Dick was her priority, the absolute center of her tunnel vision. 

The cell fought them off with the thick stench of sickness. It smelled like the plague in here, like piss and shit, vomit and death, and the ladies wondered if they would catch whatever it was by merely standing in its presence. 

"Dick?" Rachel wondered again, stepping around Kory as she inspected the room. It was small and dark and rank with illness and sweat. And it was empty. 

"You sure this is the place?" Kory asked, wringing her hands as the fire under her skin bubbled to life. 

"Absolutely." 

"So, where the hell is he? Prisoners don't exactly get recess in solitary." 

Rachel invaded the space, hands out as clues and traces floated to her fingertips. "He _was_ here. This is his cell." 

"Well, he's not now. Which means we have to burn this entire fucking place to... the..." They frowned, hearing grunts and a scuffle from the hallway. "...Ground," she finished. Pivoting, they charged the door, bursting back into the hallway. 

"There!" Rachel shouted, pointing. Three men in uniforms were beating a lump of a person on the ground, shouting insults and teases at him. At the sound of her voice, they looked up, stumbling in confusion at the two strange women standing in the hallway. 

"The hell-" one asked. He wasn't allowed to finish, though, fire boiling under his skin. He screamed, the flames consuming him from the inside out, and dissolved into a pile of ash.

Scared, the other two stumbled off, batons at the ready. Rachel charged forward and the men were sent flying across the room, bodies crunching into the walls and ceiling. "Dick!" she gasped, sliding to her knees before him. "Dick!" She grabbed his face, cradling it anxiously. 

Kory came to a stop next to her, staring down at the body. "Can he stand?" 

"I don't even think he can hear me," Rachel replied, shaking the man by the shoulder. "Dick! Wake up!" 

"Can you wake him up? We might not have time for him to come around on his own." 

"I can try." The girl stilled, eyes closing. The crystal in her forehead glowed and she pressed a thumb to the man's third eye. 

He jerked awake, eyes wide as he sucked in a startled gasp. 

"Dick!" Kory said, kneeling beside him. He frowned, blinking at them. 

"R...Rachel? Kory?" He licked his lips, looking around the hallway for something they couldn't see. "Where's Bruce?" 

"I... I don't know?" the alien woman answered curiously. Did Dick expect Bruce to save him? He couldn't possibly know about their serendipitous meeting at the diner. "He left us at Elko's." 

"What?" 

"Dick," Rachel interrupted, grabbing his shoulder urgently. "We have to leave. Now. Can you walk?" 

He swallowed, considering it, and eventually nodded. "Yeah. I think so." 

"Good." She backed away and Kory filled his vision as she grabbed his arm and guided him to his feet. He stumbled, unsteady, and black dots made it really difficult to see straight.

"God!" Rachel gasped suddenly, eyes wide with terror. Kory followed them to his hand and Dick pulled it in, hiding it close to his middle.

"It's fine," he said and fell to the side. Kory caught him, holding him upright with ease. He leaned into her (once the surprise of touching her wore off. He really didn't think they were real, did he?) and she looped his arm over her shoulder. Jesus, he was on fire. How sick was he?

"Let's move."

Rachel nodded and took the lead. She flexed and black power swirled around her fingertips, collecting and charged just in case. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Dick somehow made it just past the front gate before his eyes rolled back and he promptly passed the fuck out. They weren't sure it if was from pain, exhaustion, his sickness, or the feeling of grass under his bare feet that his muddle brain couldn't handle. The second they were free, though, it shortcircuited for good and Kory had to carry him bridal style the short jog to the car. 

It was a long drive to San Francisco and Dick spent it fading between sleep and fever dreams in the back of the car. Every so often he would wake up enough to frown at them in confusion and ask what had happened. Most of the time, though, he was muttering incoherently, moaning in pain and having a weary one-sided conversation with a fever ghost in his head. He was losing pounds of sweat and his fever only got worse. The entire cab of the car was littered with empty water bottles but they didn't help. The only thing that could save him at this point was the state-of-the-art medical supplies they had in the Tower.

Kory pressed the gas and they zoomed forward, breaking the speed not for the first - or third - time. 

Donna called when they entered the Tower, the ladies slowing to a stop as they took in the scene around them. Bloody paw and handprints smeared the countertops and floor, every inch of the room covered in broken glass. Night wind swept in through the broken windows, moving the curtains aside. 

"The hell happened in here?" Kory asked, taking the call. She switched to speakerphone as Dick blinked in confusion at her shoulder.

Donna sighed. _"I guess you made it to the Tower."_

"Yes, and it looks like a warzone." Kory kicked a shard of window aside and stomped to the bedrooms, dragging Dick along beside her. 

"Something happened to Gar," Rachel informed cryptically, hand hovering over a splotch of blood. Kory paused, looking back at her. "Something bad," she continued, shivering. 

_"Conner too,"_ Donna added from the phone. _"They're both gone. And we have no idea where. Whoever it was even took the dog."_

Bruce crossed his arms. _"You should've been here."_

Dick's eyes lulled to him. "I couldn't... I didn't know." 

"It's okay, Dick," Kory frowned, not exactly expecting him to know or even be able to follow along to their conversation.

Rachel's eyes shot up. "They took Krypto?" 

"Krypto?" the alien woman repeated in confusion. She scoffed. "Who takes a dog?" 

_"Someone who's thorough, we guess. We might have tracked down a few leads, but nothing concrete yet. How's Dick?"_

Kory adjusted her hold, looking down at the man. He was getting heavier by the second, his legs slowly giving way under him. "Uh, he's alive." 

_"That doesn't fill me with confidence."_

"Yeah, well, he's Dick. He'll put through somehow." 

Donna sighed tensely and Kory thought she might have said the wrong thing. Admittedly, it didn't sound too good to hear that your friend's only chance of survival was to somehow recover from whatever it was he had. 

_"I got to get back to work. Keep me posted?"_

"We will," Rachel promised, approaching. "You do the same. Let us know if we can help." 

_"You got it. Glad you all are okay."_

"Talk later," Kory said and promptly hung up. "Rachel, get the med room ready." 

"On it," the girl replied, rushing out. 

Kory sighed, looking to the stars for strength. Things were absolutely falling apart and she couldn't help but blame Dick for it. He had made his grand exit and the world had crumbled like a galaxy without its sun. They were, all of them, planets and comets, thrown together by coincidence and barely keeping themselves in orbit. Dick was the one who stabilized them, who centered them, and kept them from colliding into each other or spinning off into the lonely vastness of space. 

And he, the bastard, dared to believe they would be better off without him. They were nothing without him; he was the force that pulled them together. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

They strapped him to all of their machines, pumped him full of all of their antibiotics and fever reducers, and Rachel used her powers to help heal his hand. Slowly, his infection lessened and his fever lowered to a manageable level. By all accounts, he should have woken up hours ago. And his brain activity agreed as it kept a steady, healthy beat. They ran blood tests, performed X-rays, and Rachel tried to tap into his subconscious. All she heard was what sounded like Bruce Wayne giving another lecture before she was kicked out. 

If the ladies didn't know better, it was almost like Dick was refusing to wake up. If he was comatose, Rachel would have been able to waltz around his mind like a museum. If he was awake, it would have been another vision, the strange and surreal landscape of his innermost mind. It was neither of those. 

"I don't understand," the girl muttered, watching him lay in the medical bunk. His eyes were open, but blurred and staring sightlessly before him. "He should be awake by now." 

Kory took another sip from her coffee. "He should have been awake hours ago according to Donna." 

"How are you so calm?" 

She laughed. "Do I look calm?" Rachel gestured pointedly and Kory had to admit that reclining comfortably in a chair with a mug of joe balanced in her long fingers didn't exactly paint the picture of being a bundle of nerves. "Alright, fine," she conceded. 

"So? How?" 

"Things aren't always what they seem," she replied, setting her mug aside and straightening. "I don't know why he hasn't woken up yet. It doesn't make sense. You can't even get to him anymore." 

Rachel shrugged, inspecting the cuffs of her sleeves. "I could barely get to him the first time." 

"But you did. And that means that he is alive in there. ...Somewhere." 

"Kory, what if..." She swallowed nervously. "I keep thinking back to the asylum. When we found him, strapped to that chair. He looked... Well, like _that._ Like he was looking right through me, like he didn't see me at all." 

"Like he was trapped?"

"Trapped in his own head, yeah." 

"Rachel." Kindly, the alien woman scooted forward, taking Rachel's hand in her own. "The jail wasn't the asylum. They had metal batons and cafeteria food. Not mind-altering drugs and dissection labs." 

"I'm scared," the girl admitted quietly. "He doesn't even know about Gar and Conner or anything. They're still out there and we need him to find them." 

Kory squeezed. "It's okay to be scared. It's a scary situation. But, I guess we just have to trust that whatever Dick is working through in his head, he'll figure it out just in time, like he always does." 

Rachel sighed, nodding politely. It was hard to believe that the corpse before them would suddenly spring to life and kick the asses of all the bad people who had taken her friends. Then again, she had seen weirder things happen before, especially when it came to Dick Grayson. "I'm going to stay with him a little bit longer. You should get some rest." 

The woman considered it, rolling her sore shoulders. The chairs in here were nice and all but she was starting to seriously question what was keeping them from rolling in a spare queen size bed. "Okay," she finally agreed, grinning appreciatively. "You need anything?" 

"No, not right now." 

"Alright." She leaned forward, planting a kiss to the top of the girl's head. "Call me if anything changes. The intercom should work." 

"I will. Night." 

"Night, kiddo." Kory swept out the room, yawning and stretching as she toted her coffee mug to the kitchen. Rachel sighed once she was gone, deflating into the chair. In the asylum, what had snapped Dick out of his trance had been her urging him not to leave her again. _Remember your promise_ , she had pleaded and the guilt of it all had done the trick, bringing him back to her. She didn't understand why it wasn't working this time; maybe she just hadn't found the right pressure point? 

Standing, she padded over to the bed, fingers tracing the topography of his body under the covers. "Where are you, Dick? Why won't you come back to us?" 

Bruce appeared as she passed, stationed at the foot of the bed and arms crossed. _"She's right, you know. You can't keep up this little performance forever."_

Dick watched her round the bed, double-checking the machines. "She can't know," he admitted guiltily. "They shouldn't have brought me here." 

_"Because you deserve to rot in a cell, yes, we've heard it all before."_

"Because I'm a danger." 

Bruce made a noise. _"Oh, that's a new one. And where is this coming from, all of a sudden?"_

"You know." 

_"Yes. But saying it out loud does wonders to reveal all of its stupidity to the world."_

Dick looked away, eyes turned from Rachel's worried expression. "I'm a convicted felon. Who was just broken out of prison. The authorities are going to come for me." 

Bruce waved his hand. _"As far as excuses go, it's not your worst. Certainly not your best, either though. And far from the actual truth."_

"It's for their own good." 

_"Yes, we've established that. What we're trying to get to is why."_

"Why does it even matter? You know why; I shouldn't need to say it." 

Bruce stood. _"True. Why waste your breath on someone like me? Why try to convince me, who already knows perfectly well what you mean."_ He paced over to Rachel, gesturing to her. _"But what, dear boy, are you going to say to_ her _? After all, you have to wake up sometime. And when you do they are going to want answers."_

Dick swallowed thickly, looking away. 

_"You know I'm right."_

"Yes! I know, alright? You're right. And I... I don't have any excuses." 

_"Not any real ones, anyway. None that will stand up to the scrutiny of your peers, much less your dear Titans."_

Raising a hand, Dick swept it through his hair, scrubbing his face. "I don't know. I can't explain it." 

_"You know what doesn't need to be explained?"_

"Don't say it." 

_"The truth."_

He huffed in annoyance. 

_"Admit it, son. Admit what you and I both know to be true."_

"And what is that?" 

_"You don't know?"_

"Well, excuse me if my brain is a little muddled after listening to all of your fucking riddles all the time." 

Bruce shook his head, standing from the bed. _"You're so far gone in your own self-pity, I have to say; I'm not even sure if I can reach you anymore."_

Dick paled, frowning in concern. "What does that mean?" He blinked and Bruce was gone. "Bruce?" he called, pulling himself upright against the pillows. Eyes wide, he frantically looked around, trying to find the ghost of his conscience. "Bruce!" 

No response. 

"Dick?" Rachel wondered and he realized his heart rate had spiked.

"Now you leave," he muttered bitterly. 

Rachel put her hands on his chest, shaking him. "Dick! Wake up!" She glanced back and they watched his heart rate spike dangerously. Something in him tore and he clenched, gaping silently in agony. The monitor beeped loudly. "Kory!" Rachel screamed, racing to the intercom mounted near the door. Dick collapsed onto the mattress, convulsing as tried to breathe.

It was too much. The guilt, the pain of what had happened - of what he had done. It gripped at his heart in an icy fist, squeezing the life from it. First his mind, and now his body was giving up on him. Maybe it was time he gave up on himself. 

Kory burst into the room, racing for the bed. "What happened?" she asked, grabbing him tightly. 

"I don't know! I was just talking to him and he seized up! And his heart rate; it's too high!" 

The monitor flatlined.

Dick screamed silently, back arching off the cot. 

He should give it up - let it all go. It would make all of the pain go away.

Rachel turned to Kory, eyes wide. 

Kory froze for just a second, before snapping back to action. "The paddles! Go grab the defib!" 

_"Think, son! Think about it!"_

Static buzzed through Dick's mind and tears marked paths down his cheeks. The buzzing of the monitor warped and he heard garbled words. 

Rachel came back with the defibrillator and Kory threw the blankets off him, prepping the area. 

On the screen he saw it. Slade. His hands. _Jericho's_ hands. 

Bruce was leaning over him, watching the screen. _"Well, isn't that something."_

Dick's face screwed up in both emotional and physical pain as more cramps tore through him.

_"You wouldn't want to miss out on all of that, would you?"_

Kory tore the sticky pads off the paddles, securing them to his chest. 

_"It's time to wake up, Dick!"_ Bruce urged. _"Go back to them! Do it for Jericho!"_

"Clear!"

Dick shouted, eyes opening for the first time. 

"Dick!" Rachel screamed, grabbing Kory's arm to keep her from shocking him. 

The woman slapped the machine off, tossing the paddles aside. "Dick!" she gasped, grabbing his face in her long hands. 

He held it together long enough to smile at her. Then he was crumbling, leaning into her as sobs and tears choked him. 

"Easy," she soothed, hugging him tightly. "We have you. Easy, Dick." Rachel rubbed his back and he cried, breaking free from years of pain and guilt.

He wept for Jericho. He wept for all of the lost time, the ruined lives, the broken hearts. He wept for the old Titans who had left him. He wept for the new Titans who would. 

And he wept for himself, for all of the shame and torment he had put himself through. 

Bruce stood behind the huddle, hands behind his back and smiling proudly. _"Now you've got it, dear boy. Now you've got it."_


End file.
